


Art Entwined in Blood

by Holy_Vampire



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holy_Vampire/pseuds/Holy_Vampire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Iero, an average man living in New Jersey, has stumbled upon an abandoned mansion that just so happens to be owned by a mysterious man- who has a dark secret. The man's pet spider, Esmerelda, has some important things to tell Frank, if only she could speak. Will Frank fall victim to the gravitational pull of this enticing man, or will he stay safe at home with his wife, where he should be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An October Night

     It was a fog filled night, mist lightly dancing upon eyelashes. It was early October, which meant Halloween was just around the corner. Frank had gone out with a few of his companions to get a drink, have a smoke, and just wallow in the crisp of autumn. Something that Frank had not anticipated on, however, was the halt in their journey by the front gates of Hell: Way Manor. It was rumored that this building had been in the center of Jersey since the 1800's; there was also an exact replica in Europe. No one had ever dared to take a single step onto the property, much less in October. Some believed Master Way still lived in the mansion to this very day, waiting for some poor soul to enter his abode.

     Apparently today he'll get his wish.

     "Frank, just go inside! You're not a stupid teen anymore!"

     "You guys have had too much to drink," he countered.

     "So have you!" Ray spat back, quite literally.

     Ray had been one of Frank's best friends since high school. Along with the current group members, Bob, Bert, Pete, and Alex, Ray had conveniently gotten a job at the same office as Frank; with all of their cubicles next to each other.

     "It doesn't matter, I'm not going inside that place. It's too scary," Frank whined.

     "Dude, you were born on fucking Halloween," Alex slurred.

     "Doesn't matter."

     To prove his point, Frank turned his back to the mansion, pouting to the state of looking like a five year old. As a response, the group smiled deviously at each other and simultaniously shoved Frank backwards into the rusty gates, causing them to snap open. Frank fell to the ground with a cloud of dust surrounding him. He didn't scream nor yell; he was just stunned that the gates had opened so easily. He wasn't exactly the heaviest person around. He stood up slowly, straightening his spine. He could've sworn he heard a cliché horror movie scream as he looked around the courtyard. He had seen it his entire life from the outside of the gates, but the yard itself is surrounded by a mossy brick wall; too high to climb. But as of today, he is seeing it in purity for the first time. There were plants, but they didn't seem to be alive. Seems the gardener is out of town, he thought. He took a few cautious steps towards a particular garden which had a peculiar rock sticking up from the damp ground. He took a step back immediately when he saw there was a name on it.

     "There's a fucking tombstone in here!" Frank screeched.

     "It's probably just a prank to scare kids off," Pete explained. He was definitely the most sober out of any in the group.

     "Yeah, you're probably right... Probably."

     Frank continued to examine the courtyard, now in search for more pranks. God, he loved pranks. He was so lost in his searching that he almost tripped on a tree root sticking up from the dirt.

     "This entire place is a calamity," he muttered to himself.

     He took another broad look across the spacious wasteland, startled to notice that he was only about three feet from the front steps of Way Manor. He looked back to his collegues, hoping for advice on what to do next. Four of them were having giggles fits, still from when Frank stumbled on the stray root. Pete, however, looked him in the eyes and nodded seriously, silently declaring that he should go inside. His logical mind was telling him to stop, go home, and go to sleep next to his beautiful wife who was waiting for him. His curious mind, on the other hand, was prodding him further and further, causing his feet to walk closer to the mysterious building, step by step. His subconcious mind wanted this a lot more than his concious one did. His fingers graced the cool wood of the magestically carved door. A slight push could easily open the masterpiece of a front door, but Frank didn't want it to fall off. He clicked the handle, hearing multiple gears turn from the inside. It seemed like an amusement park ride that had been out of service since 1953. A very loud creak was heard as the massive door scratched the old flooring and revealed a dreary grand staircase. It was dark, but it was absolutely beautiful. As if compelled by an invisible force, Frank slid his feet up to the first dusty step. It had a preserved Persian rug drifted atop of it, seeming to preserve the wood as well. He looked around, scoping to see if the mysterious owner of this building was anywhere near. Seeing nothing, he proceeded to climb the blackened staircase.

     "Is uh, is anyone here?" he called up the stairs.

     "God, I'm so stupid. Of course there's no one here. This place has been abandoned for years."

     While Frank argued with himself, he stopped suddenly at the sight of a purple-backed, eight-legged monstrosity. His eyes widened at the sight of the creature, hanging only by a thin web. As if on cue, a luxurious sing-song voice resounded throughout the walls of the enclosure, seeming to call out for a pet of some kind.

     "Esmerelda, what on earth are you doing down here?"

     Frank glanced down at the unusual spider that now seemed to be turned towards the disembodied voice.

     The spider.

     The spider's name was Esmerelda.

     Whoever is in this house has some obvious mental or social problems. Maybe both.

     Frank tried to step backwards down the stairs, but his attempt at trying to be quiet had failed. The staircase had given him away with its squealing and creaking.

     "Hello? Is there someone here?" the voice inquired.

     There was definitely someone in the house, and Frank didn't want to stick around to find out who it was. He turned and leaped down the remaining stairs, silence no longer required. He sprinted from the staircase to the front door, not daring to look back.

     "No, wait! Come back!" the voice called, dripping with a half-Jersey, half-European accent.

     Frank wasn't much of a runner, but he let his short legs do the "talking", taking him to the outskirts of the gates, almost screaming in his friends' faces.

     "There's someone in that house, and we need to go! Like, now!" Frank pushed.

     "Relax, Frank. If anything, it's just another prank; a voice recording," Pete retorted.

     "Okay, Pete, you're usually right, but not this time. Voice recordings don't ask who you are and walk down the stairs or play with their fucking spider! We need to leave!"

     For once, Pete had an astonished look on his face. They ran from the horrid gates to their own homes, relieved that they wouldn't have to face whoever was in that house.

     "Where did you go? Honey, you look like Death!"

     Frank's wife, Jamia, had been his high school sweetheart. They dated all through high school, and he had proposed to her two years after graduation. They've been married for eight years.

     "I just, uh. Damn. We went to Way Manor," Frank easily confessed, rubbing his hand across his face.

     "Really?" Jamia gasped, "What happened?"

     Frank heaved a sigh and smiled as he explained the entire experience.

     "You faced a _spider_ and _lived?"_

     "Yeah, I guess," Frank laughed.

     She placed a ginger kiss on his still-trembling lips.

     "Wow, you're so brave," she squeaked sarcastically, holding back laughter.

     "Thanks," he smiled, "but I just want some sleep now."


	2. An Unlikely Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank confronts the strange man.

     It was Saturday when Frank had finally woken up. Jamia had already been in the kitchen making him breakfast like she usually did. Everything seemed normal; except for an aching emotion in Frank's chest. He had had a terrible nightmare, yet it left a longing sensation for something unknown. Since there was no worry about going to work, he simply sat in bed, trying to recollect pieces of the dream.

     "There was, there was this man. With a beautiful voice, it sounded like an angel. And... fangs. Definitely fangs."

     Jamia had come into the room with breakfast for her husband, and was now trying to decipher his dreams.

     "Maybe it has to do with that guy in Way Manor? Maybe your mind is making him out to be a monster. You know, he may not be a bad guy. I mean, from what you told me last night, it seems he wanted someone to keep him company. Besides his spider, of course," she observed.

    Frank ripped a chunk of toast off with his teeth while contemplating his wife's response. He didn't exactly know how to respond, just for the fact that she was probably right. And from this realization, he knew what he needed to do.

     "I need to go to Way Manor today."

     "Wait, what?" his wife asked, perplexed.

     "I need to go to Way Manor today," he repeated.

     "I need to know who's in that house. I feel like I know him somehow. I can't leave him all alone."

     With his last line, he sprang from the comfort of his bed to the wooden armoire in the corner of the room. He threw clothes out of the way, trying to find the perfect shirt-and-pant combination. He had to make an elegant first impression, after all.

     "And what do you plan to do there? Are you just expecting to walk in and have a party with bats and cobwebs?"

     Frank seized his motions and looked at his wife.

     "I'm going to figure out who owns that house."

     "I just don't want you to get hurt," she sighed.

     "I won't," he smiled, kissing her forehead.

     He had found a black dress shirt and black dress pants to wear. The place was dark, he may as well try to fit in. Slipping them easily over his small frame, Jamia forced a cell phone into his pants pocket.

     "Just in case."

     Frank embraced her with a kiss one last time before he left the house. He didn't think he needed any help, but he wanted Jamia to know that he was going to be fine. He practically skipped down the street as he saw the dreary courtyard appearing in the distance. There was no traffic, or anyone outside for that matter. Anyone who lived near the mansion didn't go out much. If they did, they sure as hell didn't drive past it. The big house didn't look so scary in the day light. It was still gloomy, but not scary. As he walked up to the gates, he realized that they were closed, just as they were the day before. There was a sudden panic inside of him as he gently pushed on the gates that seemed so fragile to him now. He rushed past the rotting animal carcasses, something he had not seen in the dark, and up to the front steps. The door was closed, its familiar yet foriegn carvings casting shadows upon itself from the mid-morning sun. He had no hesitations this time, only determination as he pressed the handle down and proceeded into the building.

     "Hello? Who lives here?" he asked sheepishly.

     He saw no sign of Esmerelda the spider, and no sign of anything living. That is, until familiar creaking came from the dusty staircase.

     "Hello, stranger."

     Frank had just about jumped out of clothing at that point. He wasn't expecting someone to actually answer. There wasn't anyone in sight, but Frank could faintly see a figure draped in the dark. He obviously had the same "blending with shadows" concept that Frank had.

     "Are you going to answer me, stranger?" the voice pressed.

    "Uh, hi," was all Frank could manage.

     The being let out a raspy chuckle as he stepped down by two stairs. In full honestly, Frank was terrified. He hadn't exactly thought through what he was going to say, or who exactly this person was. He had just wanted to confront a dream man. This person could be dangerous. He could have a dagger clutched in his palm, and Frank would never know from how dark it was. But there were small beams penetrating the dark abode that just grazed the eyes of the hidden man. It was as if his eyes were glowing.

     "Would you mind closing the door for me?"

     Frank had been rudely staring at the man on the stairs that he had not noticed the door that was wide open. Flustered, he gripped the door and pushed with his entire body weight. The door was much easier to open than to close. It slowly creaked shut, though it left Frank winded.

     "Thank you, stranger," the man announced, leisurely stepping down the staircase. As he arrived closer, he lit an oil lamp, flooding the room with an orange hue.

     "May I ask you who you are and why you are here? Not many come to my manor," he paused, looking at the entirety of Frank, "and those who do are not as formally dressed."

     The words "my manor" ricocheted across Frank's mind. So this isMaster Way, he thought. Now that there were no outside influences, Frank could see this strange man in the dim light. Needless to say, he looked like he belonged inJersey. His raven hair was ragged, while his face owned a youthful glow. He had a mixture of purple and red color around his eyes, not too uncommon in victims of insomnia. He wasn't ugly, per se, just drained-looking. In fact, he was beautiful. Could a man even be beautiful? The man's image definitely matched his voice. His attire, however, could not be observed. Unfortunately, it was as black as the surrounding air, not allowing one outline of his figure. Frank thought again of the man's last phrase, causing his face to heat up dramatically.

     "Well, uh. I just," Frank stammered, eyes aimless.

     "It's good to see some people with the decency to look nice when entering someone else's home," the man beamed.

     "Come," he proclaimed, sensing the awkward silence approaching.

     "I must show you my study."

     Frank willingly followed the man up the stairs, down multiple musty hallways, and eventually into a small candle-lit room. There was an old, expensive looking desk in the center of the room, which captivated the eyes of any who entered. The man pulled a chair to sit opposite the desk and seated himself in the one already present.

     "Go on, take a seat."

     Bewildered by the size of the mansion and, and the fact that he was actually inside of it, Frank stumbled on his way to the chair. As he sat, the man was watching him intently, as if to observe how he acted. Frank refused to look into his eyes.

     "If you don't mind, I'd like to ask some questions."

     He was really good at breaking the silence.

     “Uh, sure. Go ahead.”

     “What is your name?”

     “Frank,” he replied blatantly before adding, “Iero.”

     “You meanFrances?” the man asked calmly.

     “No. No, just Frank.”

     “Well, that will have to be fixed,” the man scoffed.

     “Around here you’ll be known asFrances.”

     “Okay?” Frank droned out, extremely confused.

     “Where are you from?”

     “Uh, I live just a few blocks away.”

     “Who sent you?”

     Frank was about to answer; until he truly analyzed what this man had asked him. He had just come here on a hunch. There was no supreme overlord that ordered him to come here, unless there was something he didn’t know about.

     “No one sent me,” Frank replied childishly.

     The man cocked an eyebrow, suddenly interested by the turn in conversation.

     “Oh? No one, you say? Not even those you came with last night?”

     “No one sent me,” he repeated with more courage.

     “Alright then. You can stay. Esmerelda, come down from there.”

     The exotic spider crawled down from Frank’s shoulder, where it had been resting for the duration of their interview. Frank slapped both of his hands over his mouth, slightly permitting a screech to escape his lips. He had never noticed the giant arachnid perched on his shoulder. The man let out a chuckle.

     “Ah, you’re afraid of spiders. Do not fear; Esmerelda does not harm those she likes. And considering she was sitting there for quite a while, I’d assume she likes you very much.”

     “But. Spider. On. Shoulder. Uhm. But,” Frank stammered.

     “What the fuck?” he stated, surprisingly clearly.

     Master Way snapped his gazed to the small man sitting across from him. He had a glint of anger, but a very sizable amount of disgust.

     “We do not curse in this manor, Frances. It is forbidden,” he enunciated, baring his small teeth.

     “It is a vile portion of our language, and why it was created, I’ll never know. It serves no use but to provide a scapegoat for daily frustrations. And there are many substitutions for that.”

     “Sorry,” Frank gasped.

     He sunk down into the small chair across from the brooding gentleman. Master Way had struck his flat palms against the wooden desk during his little philosophical rant, and was now regaining his regal poise that had been ever so apparent earlier. He released a large breath that seemed like it had been resting in his lungs for several minutes.

     “I’m sorry, Master Way.”

     That was the first time Frank had called him by the “fan-favorite” name.

     “Don’t call me that,” he replied without hesitation, “call me Gerard.”

     Frank couldn’t help the smile that cracked onto his face as he sat up straight and beamed at this new name he could give this man. He had always had friends with very common names, and this just threw them all out the door. Gerard. He repeated its elegancy mentally as he closed his eyes and smiled.

     “Enjoying yourself?”

     Gerard’s sudden outburst pulled Frank back down to earth and made him realize that he had probably looked like he was in the middle of something… sexual.

     “Um. Yeah. I mean, that’s a cool name. It has a nice ring to it.”

     “It has an elegancy unmatched by any other name. The very syllables dance off the tongue like sparks of a flame. To be an owner of this name, one has to be as elegant as the letters that make it up,” he paused, stood up, and shifted over to Frank to prove his point, “and as sexual.”

     Gerard’s tone was one that Frank didn’t recognize. It was one filled with despair; longing for someone to call a friend. It was a slap in the face to Frank to think about how long Gerard had really been in this mansion. It didn’t seem this place had electricity. He didn’t see any lamps; electric ones, anyway. What does this man do on a daily basis? If he is the true Master Way, that would mean he’s been alive since 1777, and that can’t be right. He didn’t look a day over twenty-four.

     “How old are you?” Frank’s thoughts spewed out, inches away from Gerard’s face.

     “Good answers come in time,” he breathed.

     It wasn’t until Gerard had moved away and returned to his seat that Frank realized how close they were. Their lips were almost touching. To be fair, Frank had been bisexual since his sophomore year in high school. But he had never really been in a decent relationship with a man before; he had been with Jamia. He thought he had lost all feelings for the male gender. It seemed as if Gerard knew that and was challenging it. Needless to say: it was working.

     “You never did tell me why you came here, stranger.”

     Frank couldn’t possibly explain that he saw Gerard in a dream. That would be absurd and he would be labeled as insane. He also didn’t know if it was better to be called “Frances” or “stranger”. Both seemed so vague and foreign.

     “Your house looked cool.”

     “That’s all?” Gerard resounded, giving off a cheerful laughter.

     “That’s all,” Frank smiled.

     Gerard’s light persona quickly fell as he remembered a particular fact about Frank that wasn’t personal, but it was definitely a part of him.

     “So you can walk outside? During the day?”

     The question was abrupt and unexpected, and Frank didn’t quite understand it.

     “Uh, yeah. I can walk outside. Just like you, if you wanted to.”

     “No, I can’t go outside, Frances,” he droned solemnly.

     “I have a medical condition that forbids me to see the sun. It’s quite painful.”

     “Oh,” Frank’s joking manner completely diminished.

     Gerard looked up at Frank expectantly.

     “But could you get something for me? You see, my supply of candles is running low. Would you mind getting me some more? Preferably scented candles. That way I don’t have to smell the dust.”

     “Why don’t you just install electricity?”

     “Blech. Technology is from the devil. Even if it wasn’t, it would cost a fortune to wire this entire house,” he waved his hand.

     “Yeah, that’s true,” Frank considered, then added, “ So how many candles are we talking about here?”

     “One hundred.”

     Frank quite literally fell off of his chair.

     “One hundred?!”

     “Yes. Why, do you think I need more?”

     “One hundred is a lot of candles, dude. I really don’t think you need that many. Do you even go into all of your rooms? Why do you need that many? I don’t have that much money!” Frank rambled, absolutely baffled at this man in front of him.

     “I can pay for it,” Gerard snorted, a crooked smile growing on his face.

     “I am a millionaire, after all.”


	3. A Light Stroll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Master Way go out to buy candles.

     "You're a  _millionaire?!"_

     At this point Frank was up off the ground, but wasn't quite sure where to place his body. He ended up standing by the chair he was previously in.

     "Of course I am!" Gerard belted gleefully, stretching his arms high above his head. It looked like attempted jazz hands.

     "How did you think I could afford this mansion for all these years? Who do you think got all the money from the stack market crash in 1929? It all came to me, and I lived in luxury!" he exclaimed proudly, almost cackling from the amount of energy.

     "It's a family fortune," he caught himself, lowering his arms.

     "That's a lot of money."

     "Yes, indeed. In fact, why don't you venture with me to purchase the candles? We'll go tonight. I can pick you up if you'd like," Gerard proposed.

     "We only met today," Frank laughed.

     "But I feel as if I know you," Gerard countered.

     "I already know you, Frances."

     Frank just couldn't make a joke around this guy. He always took it so seriously; and he always took it to a philosophical level. He sounds like an old man, but he looks like a boy out of high school. This just doesn't make any sense.

     "But I don't know you."

     "That's the fun part."

     Gerard stood up from his desk and walked over to a shelf with at least two hundred leather-bound books; most were falling apart. Frank couldn't read the titles because of the dim candle light, but he could tell that Gerard really loved them. He watched as Gerard pulled a particular one down as it rained dust particles from the high shelf.

     "Read this. It's my favorite," he sighed, dreamily.

     He collapsed into his chair and ran his slender fingers through the lush locks upon his head while he rested his eyes.

     "How am I supposed to read this? It looks like it's in Russian or something."

     Gerard's eyes snapped open to observe Frank.

     "Right. It's been a while. Never mind, remind me to read it to you sometime," he stated in a near whisper while retrieving the book. Frank had started to sense an awkward silence, so he pulled out the cell phone that Jamia had shoved into his pocket. It displayed one message from her asking when he'd be home. He was about to reply to it, but instead shot a glance at Gerard who was providing a glare that could crack the very gates of Hell open.

     "What is that infernal contraption?" he glared, disgusted.

     "Uh, it's just a cell phone. I guess you don't go out mu--"

     "Frank, I've expressed how I don't approve of technology.. Put that -thing- away."

     Frank was taken a little off guard, but he obliged and snuck the phone back into his pocket. Gerard's almost snarling expression returned to one of exhaustion.

     "Frank, it's nearly 10 in the morning. I'll have to ask you to leave. I'll be around to pick you up at 9 in the evening. Be fully dressed and ready to leave immediately."

     "But I--"

     "But you what, Frances?"

     Frank was caught off-guard by the look of sincerity in Gerard's ever-reminiscing eyes.

     "See you at 9."

\----------

     "So you're leaving? With some guy?"

     Frank hustled around the house, trying to find a nice-looking tie. One of his work ties maybe?

     "Yes. At nine," he glanced at the clock, "It's 8:57."

     "But Frank!"

     "Be back later!" he yelled, closing the door behind him.

     Almost immediately as he shut the door, a large black vehicle drove up to his house. It was sleek, but not shiny. It was old, but not rusty. It was a perfect monstrosity that could never define anyone but a funeral home owner; or a haunted mansion owner. The door opened and a familiar head peeked out.

     "Hello, stranger!" Gerard chimed through the dense air. "Won't you join me?"

     Frank couldn't help the smile that plastered itself onto his face as he climbed into the menacing vehicle beside Gerard.

     "Why is it that a hearse isn't unexpected?" he laughed.

     "Expect the unexpected?" Gerard shrugged. Smiles were very contagious.

     As they approached a run-down warehouse, Frank's heart beat sped up.

     "Um, where are we?"

     Suddenly, going out late at night with a man he had just met earlier in the day didn't seem like such a great idea after all...

     "We're getting candles!" Gerard beamed.

     "This place has been--"

     "Shh," Gerard put a finger to his lips to signify quieter dialogue.

     "Sorry," Frank spoke softer, "This place has been abandoned for at least ten years. How are you expecting to buy anything here?"

     "Expect the unexpected, Frances," he spoke fluently with a mischievous smirk.

     Gerard walked up to a boarded up door and repeated a series of knocks that sent shivers up Frank's spine. Gerard stood patiently by the door as if expecting someone to come and open it. Frank took an awkward stance near the hearse. Just as Gerard started to hum a mysterious tune, the garage door to the warehouse opened up with beams of light shooting through the cracks.

     "Let's get some candles," he chuckled.

     Gerard led the way into the strangely lit up warehouse. It was a marvelous sight. Varieties of candles, waxes, scents, perfumes, colognes, and even stained glass pieces were scattered neatly about the tables and shelves. Everything seemed as if it was made of gold; it was gleaming with light.

     "Haven't seen you in some time, have I, Master Way? Seems yo' got some hankerin' for a wax piece?"

     An extremely short man appeared out of a small doorway, pulling himself along with a wooden cane. Gerard also had a cane, but Frank had a feeling Gerard's was just for aesthetic purposes.

     "Hello, Mr. Mullock! It has indeed been a long time! How has business been?"

     Frank tuned out of the conversation as he started to wander about the corridors made of products. He didn't touch anything, though he came close to it. He mostly just stared in astonishment at the crafting of such normally mundane items.

     "And I met Frances here, why- just today actually! Isn't that right, Frances! ...Frances?"

     Gerard quickly found and pulled Frank back to his side by Mr. Mullock.

     "Mustn't get lost now, Frances. I've known you for too small amount of time."

     Frank looked at Gerard's face to see not a joking manner, but a serious, cautious one. Frank looked to Mr. Mullock and without thinking, blurted out something that seemed awfully rude after he said it.

     "Are you a troll?"

     Mr. Mullock gave a wheezing cackle and looked at Gerard. 

     "You haven' given this boy here a proper less'n yet? Master Way, I known yo' for quite some time, and I know you ain't a man to leave a boy untrained! Does he even know what yo' are? Are you feelin' alright?"

     "Yes, I'm doing just fine, Mr. Mullock," Gerard sneered through clenched teeth. "I'd just like my order of candles, and I'll be leaving."

     "Ah yes, your can'les. I got 'm right here, Master Way. Would you be likin' any assistance gettin' 'm to the mansion? I just got some new employ--"

     "I drove here, thank you, Mr. Mullock. I'll have Frances help me load them in the back."

     Mr. Mullock shrugged, "Well alright. Suit yo' self. They're pretty handy though, those'n the back wing..."

     " _Thank you, Mr. Mullock."_

    That appeared to be all he needed to hear, for he shrugged and left through the very door from which he came.

     "What was that about? What did he mean, 'what you are'?" Frank questioned.

     "Why, that I'm a millionaire, of course. I couldn't imagine anything else I could be," he turned to look Frank in the eyes with the same mischievous smirk as before, "could you?"


	4. See You Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank finds something out about Gerard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really short chapter, sorry! I've had it in editing process for a while, and I got sick of seeing it, so I needed to put it up. Others will be longer, I promise. Thanks for reading, guys!

     "Let's get these boxes loaded up, shall we?"

     Frank obeyed the enchanting man and quickly started to neatly stack the average-weight boxes into the back of the hearse. Gerard just stood there watching, waiting for the small man to finish his task. It was almost as if Gerard was training him; for what, Frank had no idea. But it was still a thought in the back of his mind.

     "All done!" Frank exclaimed, almost a bit too excited.

     "Am I going home now?"

    Frank hadn't known they were going to find a troll man who sold candles in an abandoned warehouse. If he had, he probably would've declined the invitation to come along. He doesn't have anything against mythical creatures, he just didn't know that they actually existed. The fact that Gerard was acting suspicious didn't help either.

     "Of course," Gerard responded with no hint of hesitation.

     "But wouldn't you like to visit The River?"

     Frank's thoughts were racing as he tried to figure out if Gerard meant the literal river or some other secret cult that he was a part of.

     "Um, maybe some other time? I should really be getting home to my wife. See, it's already really late, and--"

     "Your wife?"

     Gerard spun to completely face Frank with a genuinely shocked look on his face.

     "You have a wife, Frances?"

     "Yeah," he replied, returning the same look mixed with confusion.

     Gerard turned with a murmured, "Ah. Yes, of course," as he swiftly lunged into the black vehicle. Frank followed behind, only clumsier. The very second the door was closed, Gerard let his foot drop on the gas pedal as if it weighed a ton. Frank couldn't make out anything in the windshield, but he could hear the air rushing past them as they sped faster and faster-- down a very short street.

     "Gerard, we should slow down," Frank blankly stated as Gerard obviously had no intention to.

     "Gerard," still with no reaction.

     " _Gerard."_

     The hearse came to an abrupt stop, almost causing Frank to hit the windshield if it weren't for life-saving seatbelts. He was almost reluctant at first to unfasten it, for he thought there was still a possibility they hadn't stopped yet.

     Slightly reaching out to him, Frank asked quietly, "Gerard, are you okay--"

    His speech was cut off by a low growling coming from Gerard. Frank jumped back at the inhuman noise that was coming from this man. He looked out the window and realized he was back at his own house. He swiftly and quietly unfastened his seatbelt and climbed ungracefully out of the vehicle. He walked around it to his front door and turned around only to see faint skid marks from when they stopped.

\----------

     "I just don't get it, y'know?"

     "He seems bipolar to me."

     Frank and Ray were sat in a Starbucks, drinking coffee and evaluating the prior night's events. Frank explained everything to Ray, even the bit about thinking Gerard was pretty hot.

     "No, it's not that, Ray, he's just..."

     "Not normal?"

     "Basically. Hold on, I gotta piss."

     "Lovely!"

     Trying to hold back laughter from Ray's remark, Frank strolled over to the back corridor leading to the bathrooms. It was longer than he remembered. A lot longer. It kept getting darker the farther he walked. He stopped at a point to look at a maticulous painting on the wall, complete with an expensive 18th century frame.

     "What...the hell?" he whispered quietly.

     He continued to walk down the hallway, which was almost now void of any light. He felt his way along, using the walls to his sides to balance him. He paused occasionally to muffle a scream when he brushed his hands through cobwebs.

     "Why, hello, stranger."

     Frank whipped around to see Gerard standing behind him holding a dim lantern. He had a smile on his face, like he was proud of Frank for doing something. 

     "I see you've found my secret tunnel. Well done, Frances."

     Gerard moved past Frank with grace, his long jacket trailing behind him. Fearing more unseen cobwebs, Frank quickly followed behind.

     "So, Frances, would you like to enlighten me on how you found my tunnel?"

     "I was just in Starbucks, and was trying to find the bathroom."

     Gerard let out a raspy laugh and added, "Well that's lovely," causing a slight blush to appear on Frank's face. Gerard travelled down the corridor only to appear at a bolted door to which he revealed a small key.

     "A Skeleton Key; opens any of my doors," he said in an almost whisper.

    He unlocked the door which led to his study. Frank didn't enter for a moment, suddenly remembering what happened the day before. Gerard stopped in his tracks to look back at Frank with a concered expression.

     "Are you alright, Frances? Would you like me to read something for you? I can read...well I have many titles. You can choose. I have acquired many--"

     "That Russian one. From yesterday."

    Gerard stood with his hands raised, obviously something that rich, fancy people did when they spoke. "Are you sure? I have many others, I--"

     "No. I want that one. I want you to read it to me; well, and translate it. I wanna know what it means."

     Gerard shrugged and practically lunged over to the desk where the book was laying, still from the previous night. He walked over to the Grand Fireplace and took a seat, not on the lavish chair in front of it, but rather on the floor. He gave a meek smile to Frank as he patted the wood and carpet next to him. Frank was a bit weary, but approached anyway, taking a seat next to the man whose pasttime was defying Father Time.

     "Alright," Gerard began with an elegant story-telling voice that Frank didn't know he had, "this is titled 'Za Pravdu' which in Russian is 'For Truth'."

     He sat up straight and instructed Frank to make himself comfortable as he started quickly translating the text.

     "It is said that many have long awaited the arrival of one so astonishing; one that could break the curse and lift the veil to reveal a true beauty."

     "Wait, is this just Russian Beauty and the Beast?"

     "Hush, Frances! You musn't interrupt! Now, where was I... Ah, yes. Lingering for a love that could be as eternal as a frozen sunset. Settling for a lust that could...could..."

     "...Gerard?"

    Gerard froze in place, staring at the foriegn book in his hands. His eyes widened as he slowly repositioned his gaze to Frank. "Could...could...," he repeated, softer and softer and moving closer to Frank until he was only an inch away.

     "G-Gerard...I-I should go...Jamia probably n-needs me."

     With this last remark, Frank bounced up off the floor and ran down the dark corridor from which he came, ending up back at Starbucks. Gerard sat motionless in front of the Grand Fireplace, clutching the worn book in his white fingers.

     "...Could finally bring the monster into the light."


	5. Unwanted Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank discovers something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm seriously sorry about the time span in between each chapter. I've been really busy with family and work and no internet and blah blah blah. So I really hope you'll stick with it and keep reading as I release new parts. Thanks! xo

     "Frank, I'm glad that you've been staying home these past two weeks, but why are you so uneasy?"

     Jamia had gotten home early from work and was preparing dinner for her husband and herself. She placed a ceramic plate in front of Frank and dished out vegetables, potatoes, and, for the sake of Frank's vegetarianism, a tofu steak. She continued with the same contents on her own plate, instead with a real meat steak.

     "Thanks," Frank mumbled, ignoring the question.

     "Are you upset? Are you constipated?"

     Frank gave her a confused look, and began to pick at his food. Realization dawned on Jamia as she moved all of the plates and food away from herself and Frank.

     "The fuck, Jamia?"

     "It was that guy."

     "Gerard."

     "Yeah, Gerard. You haven't been going to see him."

     "I know," Frank droned, reaching for his dinner plate. Jamia pushed it away.

     "What did you do?"

     Frank frowned at his hands resting on the table and turned to glare at Jamia.

     "Why do you always assume  _I_  did something? He could have done something just as easily as I could. I always seem to be blamed for every robbery, every murder, every broken heart, and all I do is go to work and try to spend quality time with my wife!" Frank stood up, grabbed his plate, and stormed into the bathroom; virtually the only room in the house with a lock.

     "Frank, it's not like that," she followed behind him only to get the door slammed in her face.

     "Frank, please. Don't be like this. You know I love you; I didn't mean to blame you for anything, I just..." she trailed, ending with a sigh. She leaned her back on the door and slid down so she was sitting on the hard-wood floor.

     "I'm sorry, Frank."

     Frank sat in the bathtub, no longer touching his food. He knew he had overreacted, but he didn't want to face the conflict while it was still simmering. He laid down in the tub and thought through every mistake he's ever made, as far back as he could remember. When he reviewed the day two weeks ago at Gerard's mansion, he analyzed what was going on; in fact  _everything_ that was going on since he met Gerard. He didn't like when Frank talked to Jamia; he was so excited to read to him; he always gives him a heart-warming smile, even if he just woke up.

     He was disappointed and angry when he found out that Frank was married.

     Frank snapped out of his thoughts and groggily climbed out of the bathtub. He checked the clock, which read 9:23 PM, and he unlocked the bathroom door, momentarily forgetting about Jamia. He paused and slowly opened the door to find Jamia curled up in a ball on the floor outside of the doorframe. He carefully stepped over her and pulled a blanket out of the closet. He kneeled down by Jamia, covered her with the blanket, and gave her a light kiss on her forehead.

     "I'll be right back."

    ----------

     Frank pranced up to the front steps of Way Manor, only to be greeted with an empty house. He walked inside, closing the door, of course, and managed to look about a majority of the house, not finding anyone except Esmerelda. Confused, he stepped into Gerard's library office and took a seat in the giant luxury chair. It wasn't very comfortable, he didn't understand what Gerard loved about it so much. He shut his eyes, just hoping to get a little rest until he started searching again; Way Manor is bigger than it looks, and it looks enormous. His fingers trailed the etching on the arms of the chair until he felt a crude etch, something that didn't seem to belong. He opened his eyes to see where his fingers were and found a word scratched into the wooden arm. He lifted his fingers to, surprisingly, see his own name; well, at least, the name that Gerard had given him.

     " _Frances..."_

     Frank ran his fingers over the scratch over and over again, hoping he could find some meaning in it, perhaps through osmosis. Breaking his thoughts, however, was a blood-curdling shriek resounding through the empty halls. 

     "Gerard?" Frank immediately shot his head up in an attempt to find the mysterious mansion owner. Without hearing an answer, he decided to explore the extended corridors himself to see what was going on. He stood up quickly from the large chair, coming face to face with Esmerelda causing Frank to squeal uncontrollably.

     "Geez, you just like to freak me out don't you?"

     The spider remained still, just staring at Frank. He relaxed a bit while adding, "Great, now I'm talking to a spider..." He left the security of the warm study to be met with a cold chill in the hallway. A shiver ran up his spine, but he ventured down the hallway regardless. He realized he had never been in any part of this mansion besides the main Great Room and Gerard's study; he had no idea where he was going. As the hallway progressed, the more lost Frank became. There were doors after doors on either side of him, but he had no idea what they were. They could all be filled with that furniture you see in movies covered in white sheets. He didn't really want to prove himself right. That is, until he came upon a room that was spewing light from the bottom crack. It looked almost like a lamp light, but he knew how much Gerard hated electricity...

     "Gerard...?" Frank quietly persued, opening the door slightly.

     Instead of finding the dark-clothing clad man, a red hue penetrated his retinas. His eyes scanned the small room, inevitably landing on a mangled figure sprawled on the floor. It was covered in a deep red color, most likely blood, but Frank wasn't sure. He knelt down to the figure close enough to see that it was a female and was definitely covered in blood. He'd seen blood before, so that isn't what made Frank feel uneasy. It was the entire thought of, "Who or what did this?" because the only person here was Frank, and maybe Gerard, but he couldn't have done this.

    Could he?

\----------

     "Where in the world are you, Frances?"

     Gerard stood outside Frank's front door, constantly ringing the doorbell. He gave up for a moment, resting his body weight on the cane he seemed to always carry around when he was out. He started to impatiently tap his foot along to a boroque piece that seemed to inflate his eardrums. He stopped abruptly when he heard footsteps approaching the door. He regained his posture and doubtfully glanced at the door; the footsteps were lighter than Frank's own.

     "Who the hell-- Oh...are...are you Master Way?" Jamia asked, groggily rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

     "Ah, you must be the woman in Frances' life. I presume he's mentioned me at least once, considering your first guess was correct."

     "Uh...yeah, he's...he's mentioned you a few times. Do you wanna come in, or...?"

     "I'm actually looking to speak with Frances. Would you happen to know where he is?"

     Jamia rubbed her eyes again and let out a sigh she had been holding in.

     "I haven't seen him since eight. I thought maybe he had gone to see you."

     A strike of panic suddenly flashed in Gerard's eyes as his cane slipped from his grasp and hit the stone pathway. He slowly started to shake his head and mouth "No" over and over again, picking up his cane and flawlessly sprinting to his hearse and starting the engine.

     "Wait!", Jamia yelled over the lulled engine, running over to Gerard's window. "What's going on?!"

     "Your husband is in a bit of a dilemma, but don't you worry, I'll bring him home safe."

     He sped off, nearly running over Jamia's bare feet. She ran back inside, still partly watching where Gerard was driving off to. She shook her head and walked back into the house, still not fully understanding what was going on. Gerard, on the other hand, knew more than he cared to tell. He rushed into his intruded abode and followed the stench of bodily fluid seeping into the carpet.

     "Frances?"

     Frank had been sitting on the floor next to the mutilated woman and whipped his gaze to Gerard when he heard his name.

     "Frances, w-what are you doing in my manor unoccompanied?" Gerard squeaked. This was the first time Frank had seen Gerard look uneasy in his presence.

     Frank should have been screaming bloody murder at the fact that Gerard wasn't phased by the body, meaning he knew it was there. But he had drained all of the shock out of his system in the past ten minutes.

     "Why is the body of Mary Haulie decomposing on your floor?"


	6. A Little More Than Acquaintances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Gerard have bonding time in the middle of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a little short. I wanted to get something up, and I'm really busy lately. Enjoy!

     "Frances, please get out of the blood. You're ruining your clothes."

     Frank reluctantly stood up, but didn't dare take a step away from his current position. From the outside of the doorway, Gerard beckoned him to come out of the room by motioning with his fingers. Frank refused to budge.

     "Tell me why my neighbor is dead on your floor," Frank heaved, staring Gerard in his gleaming eyes.

   "She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My guard dog found her patroling my premises. I couldn't exactly help what happened; she was illegally on my land."

     "Since when do you have a guard dog? I've 'been on your land' multiple times, and there was no sign of a guard dog."

     Gerard looked at Frank without faulter and replied, "I just recently acquired a guard dog specifically because of you, Frances. I didn't want anyone else knowing I live here. It's probably because of you sneaking over here that she felt the need to come over here herself. She is a reporter, if I'm not mistaken. I like being left alone. I don't want the public knowing what I'm up to."

     Frank dropped his gaze back to the woman on the floor and ran over multiple thoughts in his head.

     "So she's technically dead...because of me?"

     "Technically. But no worries, you won't be held responsible, I'll be sure of that."

     At last, Frank stepped out of the puddle that seemed to stop growing for the time being. He had seen dog attacks before, and this didn't look like one of those times. It was definitely something with knarly teeth, but it wasn't a dog. He let Gerard lead him to a room on the first floor where he had water, soap, laundry lines, and other cleaning materials. He demanded Frank to take off his shoes, which he easily obliged. Choosing to stand in a blood puddle while wearing Converse wasn't exactly his best idea. He then comanded that Frank take off his pants, as they were also soaked with the red menace. There was nothing on his shirt, so Frank was relieved that he wasn't completely naked. Still, he felt the need to ask Gerard for extra clothes until his clothes had soaked and dried.

    "Are you ashamed of your body? I don't mind if you're half-clothed," Gerard stated, immediately adding, "a-as long as it's for a purpose."

     "Yeah, well you aren't the one half naked, Mr. I-Wear-Twenty-Layers-Of-Clothing."

     Gerard chuckled and removed an outer layer of his extravegant outfit and placed it over Frank.

     "Don't trip; it's long and expensive."

     A smile grew on Frank's face for the first time that day, even if it was almost midnight. He snuggled into the lavish garment and sneakily sniffed it to find that it smelled of books and...something else. He didn't know if Gerard wore cologne or not, but he was too embarrassed to actually ask. It just seemed odd for a married, grown man to ask another grown man if he wore cologne. It just wasn't the social norm. He figured it didn't matter; it smelled good, and that's all he needed to know.

     "Don't you usually...sleep by this time?" Gerard had removed multiple layers of clothing in the time that Frank was thinking. He really did have about twenty layers on.

     "Well, yeah...but you usually are wide awake at this time, so I'll stay up with you. You seem like you need company."

     Gerard scoffed and shook his head, "I have the company of Esmerelda and my books. You have a wife to look after. I met with her earlier and she seemed very upset... I wouldn't be surprised if she's still waiting up for you. I know I would be."

     Frank glanced at Gerard with a look of confusion.

     "You met with my wife? Where?"

    "Well, at your house of course. I was looking for you, but you were," he stopped to enunciate clearing his throat, "in my house."

     "See the problem here is that you keep your door unlocked," Frank joked.

     "Yes, well, I never remember where I place my keys. It's much easier for me to just keep everything unlocked. With exceptions, of course."

     "What, like secret doors?"

     Avoiding the question, Gerard began to scrub Frank's soaking clothes and pin them up on one of the multiple laundry lines being thread throughout the room. Frank eyed him questioningly, but didn't edge him on for an answer.Good answers come in time, Gerard had said the day they met.

     "Your clothes should be dried in the next hour or so. In this time we have together, what would you like to do? I know I have many things I  _should_ be doing, but since you're here, I might as well keep you entertained. Would you like to see my billiard room?"

     Gerard walked over to the open doorway and added, "I'll take your silence as a yes. Come, Frances."

     Frank followed silently, watching the paintings on the walls whip past as they seemed to be running down the multiple corridors. However, he stopped at one point to observe a painting that made his head spin. The dark brown hair, hazel eyes, look of determination...

     "Why is there a painting of me in your house?"

     Gerard hadn't noticed that Frank had ceased following, but turned immediately when he heard the distance between them. He walked quickly over to where Frank was looking, because he was very sure he didn't have a painting of Frank in his house. When he saw it, though, realization flooded around him, and he was calmer with his next actions.

     "That isn't you, Frances. It  _is_  someone named Frances, but it isn't you. It was an old friend of mine, you see. He was... Ah, nevermind memories. They do no good. Come, the billiard room is down this next corridor," Gerard answered, pulling Frank away from the painting.

\----------

     "Gerard, no fair! You're too good at this!"

    Gerard had defeated Frank at Fooseball for the 18th time that night. Even as they were playing, Frank was still dumbfounded at the sheer fact that Gerard had games in his house. He thought Gerard just sat in his study, reading books all day; well, night. He didn't think he was capable of actual fun.

     Gerard let out a ridiculous laughter as he scored yet another goal, "Well, when you get as old as me, you learn all the little tricks."

     There was that age thing again.

     "Yeah, well I'm only like 28, so I guess I don't know much, huh?" Frank chuckled, hoping that Gerard would reveal his age as well.

     "I guess not," he shrugged.

     Frank paused for a moment, hoping that Gerard would proceed to give out his age, but he continued scoring goals while Frank was distracted. He seemed like such a kid sometimes, Frank thought, using an unfair advantage while sticking his tongue out; there's no way he's older than me. He watched Gerard for a little longer, seeing him do little cheers when he got another goal. He didn't notice that Frank wasn't even playing anymore. This is what he must've done all these years to have fun; he didn't have anybody to keep him company so he just played games by himself. It made Frank's heart ache.

     "Hey, Gerard, have you ever played a video game?"

     Gerard looked up distractedly from his single-player game of Fooseball and slurred out, "A...what?"

     "Oh, this'll be good," Frank smirked, gripping Gerard's long-sleeve-covered arm and pulling him out of the mansion.

     "Frances, it's nearly three in the morning! You need to get home to your woman!"

     "My woman?" Frank laughed, "Please don't tell me you suddenly got a hold of television and started watching MTV."

     "What's MTV? Isn't that a vehicle?"

     "Oh, boy. You need to learn some stuff about the modern world."

     "Frances, I don't want to know about the modern world," Gerard pulled Frank to a stop in the middle of the street. "It's full of electricity, and that's all I need to know to hate it." He gave the street light a menacing glare for effect.

     "Gee, come on, some electricity is fun. Like video games."

     Gerard looked at Frank strangly for a moment, then following with, "What did you call me?"

     "Oh, uh. Gerard. Sorry, man. I'm used to giving my friends nicknames," Frank replied, turning pink, then mumbled, "And that's the cutest one I've made up yet."

     Gerard turned bright red and ran a distance away from the streetlight so that Frank couldn't see his face. He still had one of his many cloaks on, and he used it to wrap himself in warmth against the chilly morning air. Gerard had a sick feeling in his stomach, like he knew something was going to happen, but he wasn't sure what yet.

     "You know, Frances, today is the thirtieth of October. Tomorrow is Hallows Eve."

     "You mean Halloween. That's my birthday."

     "Oh," Gerard's face fell flat.

     "This could be a problem."


	7. Stay Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard needs to keep Frank away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh!! I am SO sorry for not getting this up! xo

     "Why is it a problem?"

     "Nothing, Frances. You're too young to understand."

     "Stop avoiding my questions!" Frank screamed.

    Gerard did nothing but stare for a few moments at the smaller man boiling with anger in front of him. He didn't quite understand how Frank could be angry at something that wasn't important to him.

     "Frances, I-"

     "No! No more 'Frances'! My name is Frank! Spell it out with me now, F-R-A-N-K. Frank. That's how it always was, that's how it'll always be. Now I don't know what it is that draws me towards you, but goddamnit, Gerard, stop treating me like a fucking five-year-old!" Frank watched Gerard wince every time he swore, "I'm not your fucking pet, and I'm sure as hell not your friend if this is how I'm treated. I haven't got the slightest fucking-"

     "Enough!" Gerard erupted, slamming his hand over Frank's mouth, a low, almost inaudible growl emerging from his larynx. He spoke in a rough whisper, "Do you want to hear real swearing, Frances? Frank? Is that what you want to hear? I can show you the exact reason why I never swear, and I can teach you a lesson to never drag me out of my home without my consent. Now, you listen to my words, and you listen well. Tomorrow, on Hallows Eve-"

     "Halloween," Frank mumbled through Gerard's hand.

     "Hallows Eve," he repeated, "There is a gathering of demons in the Devil's Circle in the woods near my mansion. Do you want to know what they do on Hallows Eve? They try to ressurect the dead. And not the old grannies and dead dogs. No, they ressurect the murderers and serial killers. The people who were killed for a reason. Do you want to know how they do it? They use human sacrifices. At this moment, I'm very frustrated with you. But in the long run, I care about you, Frances, I really do. Please don't come to my house tomorrow."

     With the last hitch in his breath, Gerard released Frank's skull and forced his way past Frank into the early morning shadows. Frank was temporarily paralyzed, not being able to move or say anything, just to think about the words Gerard had said to him. He regained control of his limbs and vocal chords and spun around to run after Gerard. However, he couldn't see Gerard, only multiple street lights that shut off. Gerard watched Frank out of his study window, an ache in his chest that he hasn't felt for a long time.

     "It's for the best," a voice behind him announced.

     "I know," he halfheartedly replied, "but it hurt so much."

\----------

     When Frank finally got home, the door was unlocked and Jamia had fallen asleep on the couch. Frank sighed and woke her up slightly, enough to move her to the bed and lay down next to her.

     "It's like...four in the morning. Jesus, Frank."

     "I know, I-"

     "Shh, just sleep," she slurred, resting her head on his shoulder.

     Frank hummed in agreement and closed his eyes.

      _"This way, this way!" Gerard cheered, his small teeth shining brightly in the afternoon sun. "I'm coming, relax ya goof," Frank called after him. Gerard let out a giggle, pulling Frank by his fingers into a field by the mansion. It was very beautiful, filled with daisies, lilacs, tulips, and roses. There was a single spot, however, that was completely barren of flowers, or grass even. Gerard was pulling him towards it. "What is that thing, Gee?" Gerard gave a crooked smile at the question and replied, "I dunno, let's go find out Frankie!" Gerard pulled him closer to the spot, which was shaped as a circle. Frank stared at it for a long time before looking back at Gerard. "Is this what I think it is?" Gerard took a step forward into the circle. "I guess so," he said, stepping back out. "Why don't you go take a look?" Frank took a weary step over the line of floral beauty and looked back at Gerard. "Go on," he smiled brilliantly. Frank stepped completely into the circle and was immediately followed by Gerard. An eerie music started playing, like the kind of music that plays when something scary is going to happen in a horror movie. Frank spun in all different directions, looking for something that could possibly harm him. The only thing he could see was Gerard, smiling and waving at him. He slumped in confusion and sat on the dirt. "I don't get it." "Get what?" Frank felt a chill run up his spine as he fell over, forcing him to look at Gerard's face, which, instead of being warm and inviting, was now cold, misshapen, and demonic. The sky was no longer blue, but black, and the flowers around the field started to wilt and set on fire. "Frankie, let's play," the demonic Gerard cooed. "Let's have fun in the flowers, Frankie." His eyes were a brilliant vermillion and seemed to be radiating fire from the pupils. His skin was coarse and started to peel off, just like old paint. Gerard reached out to touch Frank's face._

"Don't fucking touch me!" Frank screamed, sitting up in bed. Jamia's startled expression remained for a few seconds, letting Frank calm down.

     "Sorry. I just- nightmare."

     "I can tell," she nodded in response. Jamia was already fully dressed and had a tray covered in a variety of breakfast foods in her arms.

     "Jesus, what time is it?"

     "One o'clock. I was going to make lunch, but I thought you might want breakfast instead," she set the tray down on the bed.

     "Thanks," he smiled, kissing her forehead.

\----------

     "Aye, ya should be grateful! Wakin' me up at this time o' day!"

     Mr. Mullock paced the old wooden floors, creating a light thump every time his cane met the boards. Gerard sat in his luxury chair, his fingers pressed against his mouth and deep purple circles under his eyes. He hadn't slept since the day before, and he couldn't bring himself to close his eyelids.

     "I know, I know. I just need some help. And I know you can provide the kind of help I need."

     The pacing stopped as Mr. Mullock's interest was peaked.

     "My help, ya say? What'cha be needin', Master Way?" he allowed his eyes to form into squints, "What'd ya do this time?"

     "I didn't do anything!" Gerard waved his hands frantically, then slowly dropped them. "Okay, maybe I did."

     "It was that  _boy,_ wasn't it!" he enunciated boy with a poke at Gerard with his cane. "I knew he be trouble!"

      "Well, see," Gerard began, "that's only part of my problem. I need you to keep Frances away from my house. Today being Hallows Eve, I'm going to be working in the, um," he paused, "cellar."

     "The cellar!" Mr. Mullock snorted. "Why didn't ya say so! I'll keep the boy away, don't you worry, Master Way."

     "Thanks," he slurred, letting his mind drift and his eyelids drop.


	8. Abide With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank is curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SO SO SORRY. A lot has been going on in my life recently, and I hope you all will understand. I wasn't going to wait until Halloween, but I ended up doing so... More to be continued! xo

     "It's my fucking birthday!"  
     "I know, man, I know. Just chill out."  
     Frank was panicking in a tarnished recliner in Bert's basement. Bert himself was strewn across the ripped maroon sofa, tilted up against the wall. Pete, Ray, Bob, and Alex were there as well, but mostly just listening to Frank as Bert acted as the crazy therapist who perscribed himself drugs. Frank's knee bounced up and down, his foot pressing against the shag carpet which needed a severe cleaning; or better yet, get rid of it all together.  
     "I just don't know what to do."  
     "I think you should go to his house anyways, just to surprise him. I bet it's his way of edging you on to come. You know, when I had this problem, I walked into his house, just kicked the door down and-"  
     "Bert, you have that problem every day, and you get arrested almost every time," Pete cut in.  
     Bert gave him a mused expression, then turned his attention back to Frank.  
     "Just trust me, you gotta go for it, Frank. He wants you to."  
     "Don't do it, Frank. There's obviously a reason why he wants you to stay away."  
     Pete and Bert continued to bicker back and forth, starting to use hand motions into their expressions. Their yelling kept getting louder and more screechy until Frank lurched up from the chair.  
     "That's enough."  
     Neither Bert or Pete heard him at all.  
     "Enough!" his voice resounded against the plaster walls. They stopped immediately, staring at Frank with blank faces.  
     "I've had enough of all of you! I'm going over to his house. And it's not to defy you," he pointed at Pete, "and it's not to make you happy," he moved his action to Bert. "I need to see him, to ask him what the hell is going on. He is just such a head strain!" He exclaimed, stomping up the basement steps. The group of friends didn't move until they heard the front door slam. Bob turned to the group with a serious expression.  
     "That was like dealing with a twelve year old girl in her first relationship."  
\----------  
     "O del mio dolche ardore, bramatto getto...," Gerard sang, cleaning ancient medical instruments.  
     "Bramatto getto!"  
     He danced elegantly around a long, steel table, gathering more instruments and herbs and setting them on a small side table. Picking up a scalpel, he spun it in his hand, clearly having done it before. His opera-like voice was bouncing on the walls of stone making it sound louder than he actually was. It was so loud, in fact, that he didn't notice Frank at the barred cellar window.  
     "Gerard?"  
     "What's that?" he stopped singing to listen to his surroundings.  
     "Must've been the wind...," he mumbled, trying incredulously to regain his focus.  
     "Gerard."  
     Gerard whipped around, a four millimeter scalpel aimed precisely through the rusted bars molded into the small window. Unfortunately, without having thrown anything with a ninja-like passion in quite a long time, Gerard missed his target, the scalpel plunging into the stone right next to it.  
     "Damn you, Lucifer!"  
     "Um," a small voice stumbled, thanking every being that Gerard had missed.  
     Gerard's eyes widened, stepping cautiously toward the person. He glimpsed short, dark brown hair and immediately jumped back from the window.  
     "Go away! Go home! I don't want you here!"  
     Frank tried to peer through the bars, but to no avail: only Gerard's face and some shiny things on a table were visable. He wondered if Gerard thought he was some burgalar or a random civilian. Maybe he didn't see his face yet.  
     "Gerard, it's me," Frank croaked out, still a little shaken by almost getting his neck pierced.  
     "I know!" he yelled back, an almost shriek to his voice.  
     "That's why you need to go home! Go! Now!" he waved his hands in a shooing manner, but since Frank was out in sunlight, he could barely see anything in the dark.  
     "But I don't understand, I just wanted to-"  
     "Frances- uh, Frank. Please, I need you to leave right now. I'll explain it to you _again_ , tomorrow."  
     Frank backed away from the window, sitting on his knees. He stared into the cellar, still able to make out Gerard's white face moving around in the darkness. He kept asking himself questions as to what Gerard could be doing. He never even knew that Gerard had a cellar until now. He leaned closer to the window again, realizing that he couldn't see Gerard anymore. All he could see were the shiny things on the table.  
     "I told you to go home."  
     Frank toppled over onto a pile of leaves, each making their own crunching sound. There was Gerard, standing in front of him: outside in the daylight. Of course, he was much too bundled up for a chilly fall day. He had a black fedora, only slightly exposing his raven hair, which now looked as if it had a blue hue to it. A large buttoned trench coat swung from his broad shoulders, where it met his black pants by his ankles. His shoes looked worn, barley crunching any leaves at all, mostly just bending them. His gleaming eyes were hidden behind round sunglasses, but Frank could still see a ring of gold around his pupil.  
     "Uh, yeah, I just-"  
     "Please, Frank, just go home. It'll be safer there," he spoke from behind an over-sized black scarf, wrapped multiple times around his neck and lower face. He reached his gloved hand out for Frank to grab. Frank grasped it tightly, letting himself be pulled up off of the ground with ease.  
     "You said my name right."  
     Gerard's mouth opened just a little, then his eyes dropped to the ground.  
     "Yeah, I know."  
     "It's nice to hear it," Frank smiled.  
     Gerard flushed, his cheeks only a dusted pink. It quickly faded, however, when a small man appeared from behind Gerard.  
     "Mr. Mullock."  
     "Frances."  
     "Uh, it's- it's actually Frank now," Gerard cut into the greeting.  
     "You've gone soft, Master Way! You ain't a half-blood, are ye?"  
     Frank bit back a smile that was being forced onto his mouth. "This isn't Harry Potter, man."  
     Mr. Mullock produced a lingering stare at Frank, trying to figure out exactly what he knew.  
     "Ye haven't told him yet."  
     "Mr. Mullock, just take him home."  
     "Aye, I'll take him home, all right. I'll take him home and tell him what you've been keeping from-"  
 _"Tace!"_  
     Mr. Mullock's mouth seemed to glue shut right then and there, his muffled cries scratching against his lips. He started to claw at his mouth, trying to pry it open. He realized it was no use, and pleaded at Gerard with his eyes. Gerard looked down, almost as if he couldn't look at Mr. Mullock. The troll stood there, seeming to be crying, "Why would you do this to me? I trusted you!"  
     "Sometimes you can't trust everyone," Gerard's expression seemed to say.  
     "Take Frank home, Mr. Mullock. I have work to do."


	9. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are revealed about the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things: 1) I will not abandon this work, I'm just busy. It will still be updated okay? <3 and 2) This is nowhere near the end of the story, so don't freak out yet. Hope you enjoy! xo

     "What did he do? Why can't you talk? Can you even open your mouth?"  
  
     Frank circled Mr. Mullock as they walked back to Frank's house through the back roads. Mr. Mullock was not amused by Frank's questions, so he ignored them, hoping he would stop; he didn't, of course. Mr. Mullock stopped walking and turned to Frank with an irritable expression. A muffled shout was heard through his pursed lips, but Frank couldn't quite understand what he was saying. He lightly tapped the raging troll's mouth, releasing a continuous string of curses and swears, reunited with the air around them. Mr. Mullock, realizing he could talk, stood dumbfoundedly staring at Frank.  
  
     "H-How did ye do that?"  
  
     "I just touched your mouth, man."  
  
     "But...But how! I be practicin' fo' cent'ries to o'rcome the Ways! How did ye do it so easily?"  
  
     "I don't...know," Frank droned, trying to connect centuries to Gerard.  
  
     "Witchcraft...," he slipped under his breath. Frank looked through a light fog at the brooding mansion, seeming to scan the courtyard. His gaze dropped to his feet, dejectedly.

     "There's always tomorrow."  
  
\----------  
  
     "I can't take it anymore!"  
  
     "Gerard, calm down. Don't you dare conform to the current vulgarity that humans call the English language!"

     Gerard glared at the other man, starting to pace down a long corridor. The man stood in a doorway, watching him. Gerard stopped pacing to straighten a picture frame on the stone wall, then resumed walking, his velvet hood draping the maroon carpeting under his feet.

     "I am not conforming!" Gerard yelled when he passed the man. "And besides, are humans really as vulgar as we say they are? Have times changed, brother? How do we know who to trust and who not to trust?"

     The man looked into Gerard's eyes and growled, "We trust no one, brother."

     "And that is why we must change. There is a ceremony tonight, and I sincerely hope you would join me."

     "Brother, you need to sleep. It is at least high noon. Your eyes are purple."

     "I have no need of your supervision!" Gerard stopped in the doorway. "I am the eldest! Do what you please, brother, but I am to do what pleases me! Go and pillage the next town over; rape and slaughter them! I have no care for them! I have no need! They are worthless to me, as is everyone other than Frank!"

     "I thought his name was Frances?"

     Gerard released a large breath and whispered, "He prefers to be known as Frank. I am able to grant that wish, and so I shall. Conjointly, I won't have to remember Frances Burks, now will I?"

     "Yet you still have his painting," the man cooed nonchalantly, with a smirk.

     "Brother, I suggest you leave now, lest you become a feast," Gerard snarled.

     The man raised his arms in a guiltless surrender and sauntered toward the main staircase.

     "Oh, and Michael?"

     The man turned.

     "Do be a gentleman and inform Madam Iero that her husband...," he paused, looking out the window, "is trying to get himself killed."

     He nodded, bumped Esmerelda out of her web, and withdrew from the mansion walls.

     "Filthy plunderer and his horde of Hobbits," Gerard spat, picking up Esmerelda and placing her back in her web.

     Frank strolled up to the mansion doors once more, only to collide with a brooding man that looked strikeingly similar to Gerard. The man gave Frank an evil look, then passed on his way, seeming to disappear in the fog.

     "Who was th-"

     "Now, don' get caught up with him, aye? Just get yo'self goin'," Mr. Mullock pushed Frank up to the doors. They opened easier than usual, seeming to be weak like a person who hadn't gotten sleep. The entire inside of the normally warm mansion was now cold, no lit candles in sight. Leaves blew in through the door, changing from a bright orange or red to a distasteful brown in a matter of seconds. He grabbed a small metal plate with a candle on it and lit it with a match. I knew these would come in handy, he thought. He didn't bother closing the door, but progressed up the old staircase that seemed very fragile. As he approached the top of the flight, he still could not see any light down either hallways. He knew his way to Gerard's library by now, so he moved in that direction. Mr. Mullock followed closely behind, fearful of anything that may appear behind him.

     "There are more spiderwebs than usual..."

     "Esmerelda's gettin' artsy perhaps?"

     "No... No. Like cobwebs," he moved the candle toward some of them with leaves caught in them, "like they've been here for a long time."

     They continued their wandering, and came across a closed door where Gerard's library was. Frank turned the cold knob and his face struck a certain panic. He looked at Mr. Mullock.

     "He told me he never locks doors," he whispered, his eyes wide with fear like a child who heard an owl for the first time. He tried turning it again, only to get stopped by a metal lock once more. Mr. Mullock pushed Frank out of the way and rammed into the door, which made a slight cracking sound. He did it several times, Frank flinching at each one. The door finally gave, releasing a cloud of dust that erupted from the room. They walked inside to see a dry fireplace, precarious holes in the floorboards, and books that looked as if they hadn't been touched in decades. A sudden realization washed over Frank as he ran over to the web covered desk chair and ran his fingers over the arm: there were no engravings.

     "Hey, Mullock...," Frank choked out through upcoming tears, "let's get out of here. I don't... I don't think he's here anymore."

     "Aye, boy."

     There was the sound of a large group of people approaching the library, and Frank could make out one distinct voice, while the rest were murmurs.

     "And here is the main hallway, where he spent a lot of his time in his library reading books that he had collected over the course of his life. We can go inside, if you'd all like! Oh," she paused, "Oh dear...this door has been vandalized! Uh, no worries, no worries! We'll just, um. We'll just carry on. Let's enter, shall we?"

     A petite woman clad in tight white clothes entered the room, a group of tourists, ranging from teens to the elderly, followed behind her. Frank had sat in the big chair before they appeared, and Mr. Mullock had slipped under the desk. They only had a few lamps, so Frank was hoping they wouldn't see him if he acted as a mannequin.

     "Watch out for the holes in the floorboards; there might be some under the rug too, so please be careful. Alright, is everyone in? Okay. So over there is where he usually sat," she pointed over to the fireplace, "and he read books or reflected on his life and business management. And over he- Oh my God!" she placed a hand on her heart. "Sir! What are you doing in here? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

     Frank looked at her, almost dazed and failing to realize what was going on.

     "What?"

     "What are you doing in here, Sir? This mansion is off-limits to anyone that isn't included in the tour."

     "Tour?"

     "Yes," she sighed, "Honestly, stop smoking. It'll do wonders."

     Frank sat up a bit and rubbed his eyes, "I'm not a stoner."

     "Then can you please tell me what you're doing in here?"

     "I was... I was looking for someone. With my friend."

     "Sir, there hasn't been anyone living here for the past century. Who were you looking for? And where is your friend?"

     "Um, Gerard Way. And my friend is...," he looked under the desk but found nothing, "gone, I guess. His name is Mr. Mullock."

     She looked bewildered, and looked at him with the lamp closer to his face. "Gerard Way? Mr. Mullock?"

     Frank nodded, confident yet scared.

     Her tone was softer now, filled with what seemed like sympathy for the insane, "Hun, Mr. Way and Mr. Mullock are long gone. They haven't been alive since 1873. Are you sure they're who you were looking for?"

     "Yes, I'm sure, and that's not true. I just saw him today. And... And he got a fortune from the stock crash. How could he have been dead before it?"

     "His lover collected the money after his suicide and ran off with it. To Europe, most historians say," she glanced down at his wrists. "Are you from anywhere? Do you need help getting back?"

     "I'm not crazy," Frank whispered. "I just talked to him today. And Mr. Mullock was just with me!", he raised his voice. "Maybe he has secret powers, I don't know what trolls do!"

     "Troll?" she raised her eyebrows. "Mr. Mullock was Gerard's business partner. He passed away from pnemonia a few weeks before Gerard took his own life."

     Frank decided to stop arguing before he was put into an asylum, "Why didn't his lover stop him? She must've been pretty nice, right?"

     "He," she corrected him, "and no, actually, Frances Burks was an awful person. I don't know why Gerard ever gave anything to him."

     Frank looked down at his shoes. That's why he liked me so much, he thought, I just reminded him of his asshole lover from the 1800s.

     "What year is this?"

     She scoffed a little, before realizing he was serious, "It's 1972. Almost the hundred year anniversary of Mr. Way's suicide. Shouldn't you know what the year is?"

     Frank shakily stood up and walked towards the door.

     "Oh, and one more thing."

     "Yes?" she said confused.

     "He had a brother, too."


	10. Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank's mind has been taken over. Sibling trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm alive! So sorry for the extended wait. THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY. xo

     Frank didn't know what to do. He had promised to leave, but he just couldn't. He tripped over a fold in the staircase carpeting and plundered to the floor boards, creating an echo in the empty Grand Room. He grumbled into the dust, cursing to the wood; his limbs were numb and he didn't feel the urgency to move. Everything was swimming in his mind that he thought he had started to see things. He thought the faint glow down the hallway was all in his head. The warm sensation of someone who belonged in the home overtook him and lifted him up to his fragile feet. The ornate rug seemed to pull him down the corridor, aiming towards the glow that grew brighter the closer he got. Running his hands along the cracks, Frank followed the glow, reminding him of when he found his neighbor bleeding mercilessly on the floor. The memory sent a chill up his spine. Soft whispers were emerging from the room, but nothing that sounded dangerous. In fact, it sounded a bit like...

     "Frank? Oh, no, he is but a man."

     "Are you positive? He seems a bit...close."

     "No, I am completely positive. He just enjoys company."

     "Your company?"

     "Company."

     Frank heard a quiet sigh, followed by a chair squeaking. He couldn't see anyone in the room, yet the door opened and someone brushed past him. A darker figure also left the room, but this one stopped and grabbed Frank's shoulder. He gasped of fright, but quickly inhaled sharply again, seeing the figure.

     "Gerard..."

     "Frank. What are you doing?"

     Gerard's face looked strained, like he was yelling, yet his words were as smooth as satin to Frank's ears.

     "Frank, I need to get you out of here, now. This is not safe, and you _will_ die. Please, leave the circle. _Now._ "

     Frank shook his head in confusion, looking for a circle. However, as his eyes wandered, the rug turned into grass and around him erupted in flames. In panic, he turned to Gerard, his face alight with the embers of their surroundings, tears streaming down his face.

     "Frank, can you even hear me?! Get out of here! Go! Don't worry about the flames, it'll only be slight burns; just go!" Gerard screamed over the incessant chanting from outside of the circle.

     He wanted to listen to Gerard, he really did. His legs, on the other hand, seemed to be concrete. His eyes glazed over, and Gerard's voice seemed to fade out. As the chanting grew louder, Frank's consciousness slipped further and further away. Gerard's mouth screamed one last thing before everything went black.

\----------

     "...well, I don't really think..."

     "...it's the only way..."

     "...but what if we..."

     "...the doctor, um... Frank?"

     "Oh, God, Frank? Are you waking up? Is he waking up? Please say something if you can hear me!"

     "Jamia, calm down. He has been through a great deal. Let him take his time."

     Frank cracked his eyes open, but to only see shadows. He could tell he was in a hospital though; the beeping from the machines was louder than he would want it. His vision cleared as he saw his wife and... someone else standing next to her. They were both wet from rain.

     "Who are you?"

     Jamia followed his gaze and stared at the other man. She bit her lip slightly, nodding to him.

     "He's talking to you."

     The man stepped forward and crouched down to be eye level with Frank. He took his hand, being mindful of the IV tubes, and lightly kissed his fingers.

     "I'm afraid you don't need to know who I am, Frank," he breathed, his voice shaking. "I see now that you are better off not knowing my name or where I'm from. Hell, even what I am, though I know you never found out. It will just be easier this way; stay with your wife and have children, even! You will be happy; more happy than I could ever make you. If your complete memory ever rushes back to you, which I know it will eventually, just know that I'm sorry. My realm is just too dangerous for you to be in. I-"

     "Stop."

     "What?"

     "Stop. Yeah, I don't know who you are, but from the sound of it, we had a good run, maybe a little reckless. You seem really fancy and that's pretty cool. But I know for a fact that you're a Jersey dude and hey, I say we're family if you're in my hospital room; and Jamia knows you! You can't be all bad," he paused, "can you?"

     He chuckled and squeezed Frank's fingers while dropping his head. He looked back up and smiled, a genuine smile, where Frank could see small, nicotine-stained teeth with slightly sharper canines. It wasn't frightening, nor disturbing, but rather comforting to know that Frank himself wasn't the only one into vampires.

     "No, I guess not," his smile dimmed.

     "Maybe I could come over some time."

     The man's eyes widened as he stared at Frank's face. He shook his head, his wet, shoulder-length hair swinging wildly into his face. He stood up and dropped Frank's hand, mumbling something about having to drive home in the rain. He grabbed his jacket and hat and swiftly left the room. Jamia came up to him afterwards and gently kissed his forehead. She pulled over a chair and sat down.

     "What did he want?"

     "He was just telling me about what we did or something. How his life is more dangerous than mine. I bet he doesn't even do taxes, a rich guy like that," Frank giggled.

     "Oh Lord, the morphine kicked in," Jamia rolled her eyes.

     Frank erupted in laughter, trying to talk but unable to find words. Jamia rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

     "What... What was his name?"

     "Gerard," she hummed, almost falling asleep.

     "Gerard... That's a cool name."

\----------

     "So are you done with him now?"

     "Yes, are you happy now?"

     "Yes."

     Michael stood in the corner of the library with a smug expression carved into his face. Gerard was packing books and journals into giant chests. He came across one book however, a certain Russian book. He stared at it, and carried it over to a chair by the fireplace. The cover and binding of the book were almost dust in his hands, and the words on the pages were almost faded to the point that it couldn't be read anymore. He gripped it tightly and held it to his chest. He sighed and with a single tear escaping his eye, he tossed the book into the flames and watched it be engulfed. He stood and returned to packing away his other books.

     "That was a fine choice, Brother."

     Gerard was silent.

     "Oh, are you not going to talk to me now? Because I helped you?"

     Gerard leapt at Michael, baring his teeth in a animalistic manner. He shoved him to the floor and clasped his hand around his throat.

     "You didn't help me!", Gerard snarled. "You helped yourself! The rest of the family had no problem with me being a human's friend, but you just wanted him dead! Does that sound like you were helping me? Does it? No! You are nothing but a pathetic abomination, searching for your lost love! Well, I will let you know one thing, Brother: she is dead! She has been dead! For close to one hundred years now! Even if she was alive, she would not want to see you anyway! You are a cold-hearted heathen that has no pleasure in anything but killing! You are not part of this clan," Gerard clenched his teeth, "and you are certainly not my brother."

     He released Michael's throat, to which he coughed repeatedly, trying to breath inwards. He curled into a ball, spitting on the floor. Gerard stood over him, waiting for him to stop. When he did, he looked up at Gerard with pleading eyes.

     "Brother, please! Have mercy!" he shrieked.

     "I have no mercy for you, Michael. Only for my brother," he replied coldly, swinging his leg as hard as he could towards the terrified face of a once innocent child.


	11. A Day In The Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some oddly normal events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. This is a short chapter, because I really wanted to get something up, since I haven't updated since around New Years. I hope it's okay for now, and I'll be sure with this summer break that I'll write more, possibly even finish it. Thanks for sticking with it! xo

_"Today should be a great day; sunny skies, a few clouds here and there, but it should be a fantastic day for a nice walk or a picnic..."_

     "So today should be good, huh?"

     "For Jersey? Jesus, someone must've sacrificed virgins last night."

     Frank dragged his palms up and down his face, trying to wake himself up. Jamia had brought him a cup of coffee to help.

     "Any plans for the day?"

   Frank shook his head lightly, eyeing the television through cracks in his fingers. He exhaled obnoxiously and ended with a series of mumbled words.

     "What was that?"

     "I said, I'll probably just call up the guys and have a few drinks."

     "Now you be careful. Last time, you-"

    "Last time I drank, I was stupid and went driving, and ended up in a coma. I know, Jamia," he dropped his hands into his lap, and looked at her with the best puppy face he could muster, "I'll be careful this time, I promise."

     She chuckled, "With all the adoption papers I saw on the table when I woke up, you better step up your game."

     "You mean...," he trailed, a smile stretching to both of his ears.

     Jamia nodded just as Frank rushed up to her, snatched her from her spot on the couch, and spun her around the room.

     "Thank you, thank you, _thank you!"_ he repeated, burying muffled kisses in her dark brown hair.

     "I've always wanted a dog! Always!"

      "I know, I know!" she laughed dryly, remembering who actually paid for the adoption.

     "I gotta go tell the guys about this!" he exclaimed, grabbing his tan jacket off of a dining room chair, "I'll be back!"

     Frank jumped down the five steps on his porch and stumbled on his feet, almost falling into a man walking in front of him. He quickly looked up at the man and apologized, stopping to look into his eyes that seemed only half alive. Apologizing again, slightly taken aback by the man's appearance, Frank jogged to Bert's house, where he knew the rest of his friends were there talking about some office gossip that was too risky to actually say by the drinking fountain. The man, however, sighed slowly through his nose and tapped the sidewalk with his cane. He mumbled a few words, which no one really could have understood, and brushed his hair out of his face. He looked off towards the big mansion at the end of the street. Jamia walked up to the man, and rested one hand on his shoulder while keeping a blanket wrapped around her torso with the other.

     "Thank you for the puppy, Gerard. Frank's really excited about it."

     "I knew he would be. He always seemed like a dog person."

     There was a small pause, neither of them breaking their gazes on the house.

     "I'm sorry you had to do that to him."

     Gerard turned, "Do what?"

     "You know. Blank his memory. I know you were really close with him. You two were like best friends."

     "Ah," he turned to face the house again, "Well it definitely was not something I intended on doing. He interfered a bit and didn't listen. I just-"

     His words were cut off by a feeling of sorrow; his voice had started to crack. A tear rolled down his cheek.

     "I just wanted his love."

     Jamia dropped the blanket she was holding and wrapped Gerard in a tight hug. His eyes widened, his brain not knowing what to do. His hands went numb, dropping his cane to the gray pavement. Reluctantly, more tears were released, his face turning a light shade of pink, almost like a spring rose. His arms slowly wrapped around Jamia, hugging her only half as tight as she was clutching him.

     "I know, Gerard. I know."

\----------

     "I can't believe you didn't tell me, man!"

     Ray paced furiously across Bert's strictly grunge carpet, his bare feet hopping slightly every now and again to avoid stepping on an old slice of pizza. After three or four rounds, he would stop, look at Frank, exhale loudly from his nostrils like a bull, then continue pacing to continue his pattern. Pete sat on the arm of a battered couch, where he usually sat, a bottle of distilled wheat in his hand. Alex was leaned back, sunken into the cushions with Bob resting his feet on Alex's thighs. Bert was on the floor with a cigarette hanging from his lips, his ragged hair almost down to his mid chest. They all either watched Ray over exaggerate or Frank's sulking face. Sometimes their gazes would switch when the other would do something out of pattern.

     "Don't you remember that class we took once? It specifically told us that you _should not_ drink and drive. I mean, everyone knows that! You learn when you're a little kid! But then to _do it_ , get in a _coma,_ and not _tell_ us about it? Jesus, Frank!"

     "Hey I told you I'm sorry man."

     "Sorry doesn't cut it this time, Frank. You need to be more careful. Fuck, I'm surprised you know who we are."

     "I've noticed that, actually. I remember a lot of stuff, like who people are, what they do. I remember my whole life up to a month ago."

     Ray's eyes widened, then dropped. His anger seemed to evaporate, almost in a visible vapor.

     "Yeah, that's pretty crazy man. I'm actually gonna order some pizza. What does everyone want?"


	12. Catching Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard runs into someone he once knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers. I would just like to apologize for the abscence these past two or three months. I've been extremely sick, and my laptop is no longer charging as of a month or two ago. But I hope you enjoy a quick update from my phone. Thanks for reading! xo

Days have passed, and soon enough weeks and months had passed. Frank Iero stayed at home with his wife and his new puppy, occasionally discussing the future. He hadn't gone much of anywhere, not even to work. He hadn't quit and he hadn't been fired, but he had been given a year off due to his medical condition. On another spectrum, Gerard couldn't concentrate on a single thing in his life. He had obtained a new copy of the book he burned; he read it long into every day, only sleeping a few hours before picking up the book and reading it again. He no longer walked around his house. He no longer looked for Esmerelda when she wasn't in the library. He only stood and looked out of his fungus frosted windows to a small house a couple blocks away, and softly sang in his cracked voice, "O del mio dolce ardor, bramato oggetto, bramato oggetto, L'aura che tu respiri, alfin respiro, alfin respiro."

It was more than a year since Gerard had last seen Frank. It was the end of November, the air still filled with the aroma of crunching leaves and every once in a while an old lady's pumpkin pie. It was later in the day, the sun almost at its tipping point, and Gerard went on a stroll through town. He figured everyone would be inside, staying warm in their homes. His cane made small clicks in the silent air with every other step he took. He wore a velvet cloak over his clothing, the fabric only slightly scraping the cement underneath it. The fur lining was sure to keep him warm against the chilly breezes that would rush past his face.

"How are you today, sir?"

"I am just fine, thank you."

Gerard hadn't planned on making any conversation with anyone, but this man seemed promising enough.

"Where ya headed?"

"Just up the road. To the store. I needed to pick something up," Gerard rambled, trying to sound convincing.

"Well a'ight, but be careful. I heard there was some business goin' on up there. Some freaky business. Monster business. A man says he goes to get milk, comes back with torn clothes and a chunk of his arm missin'. That ain't a good place for you, with yer fancy clothes and such. They look expensive, you shouldn't get 'em all dirty. 'Specially since if it's not monsters, there's some messed up people up there, I swear. Just be careful, there. I don't wanna sleep knowin' I could've prevented a tragedy."

Gerard bit down a smile, dually because if they're monsters he most likely knew them, but also that some old man that he passed cared what happened to him. It's been a long time since that feeling had been present.

"Thank you, sir. I'll be careful and stay out of everyone's way.

"Good," the man nodded, then added, "The name is McCracken, by the way. You almost look like a friend of my son's. You friends with a Bert McCracken?"

"No sir, I am not."

"Hmph. Well anyway, I'm sure I'll see ya around some other time. Goodbye, Mister."

Gerard stood there for a moment, then continued on his path. As he got closer to the store, it had gotten much darker, the clouds turning black and forming large circles around where Gerard was headed. A young man came running toward him, a spewing gash on his face leaking red fluid. His eyes were swollen and red, as though he had been crying for Lucifer. The man screamed in Gerard's face, but no words could be made out. It seemed like a whole other language, yet not a language at all. Gerard gripped the boy's shoulders and shook him slightly, just to see his face in the middle of spastic movements. Eventually, he cupped his face and stated into his eyes. They were black, but only in crevices. It looked like the moon, the craters reaching deep down into his mind, each one harboring a darker secret than the last. He released the boy who stumbled on his feet and ran off, babbling nonsense into strangers' faces. Gerard moved on.

A store clerk lay dead on the broken tile flooring, his eyes were wide in fright. Blood trailed from his head to seemingly random points in the building, all formed in footprints. A few others lay dead as well, their cold faces lie flat, squished into the dust and their own puddles of blood on the floor. The smell of it all was slightly unbearable, so Gerard covered his mouth and nose with his scarf before trudging through debris to see what was going on. He heard rustling from near the back, but he didn't try to deal with that yet. He wanted to focus on finding any survivors, if any.

"Is anyone still here? Is anyone still alive?" Gerard whispered through the aisles.

Someone moaned from underneath a rubble pile from a broken display. Gerard quickly removed boards and products off of the man, who sat up and stared at Gerard with a look of confusion, then of fright, then back to confusion.

"Are you... y'know, one of _them_?"

"Who is 'them'?"

"The guys who were trashing this place. The guys who are _killing_ people just to _kill_. I've never seen anything like it."

Gerard sighed, helped the man up, then shooed him away to get him home safely.

"That kid looked like he was on one hell of a drug," he mumbled. There was more noise in the back of the store, so he finally ventured to the storage room. There was a large mess, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Gerard bent down to sample the blood that was puddled on the floor, a small taste brought to his lips; a euphoria unlike any enhanced substance. It was glorious.

"Hey, Edward Cullen! Will you dance for us too? How about be our disco ball, huh? Would you like that pretty boy?"

Four people, who Gerard assumed were men, stood before him, their faces hidden with crude Halloween masks. He stood up without a word and looked into the eye holes of the man in the front of the group. He squinted, blinked a few times, and reached his hand out to the man's neck.

"What... what the fuck are you doing? You motherfuck-"

"Be quiet or I will rip out your jugular and make you eat it."

The eyes of the man went wide, and a bead of sweat rolled down his neck, opposite of where Gerard was looking. He pinched a little at a small rose tattoo near the man's clavicle. He flinched, but did not say a word.

"Frances...," Gerard gasped, looking into the man's eyes again, "You're not Frances. Where is Frances? Frances Burks? He's here, isn't he?"

More beads of sweat dripped from the man's face, but he kept his mouth shut. Gerard pinched harder on his vein, making him shout loudly, but still no words.

"Tell me where Frances is, you defiled, pathetic excuse for a vampyr!"

"Oh, give them a chance, Gerard. They've just started on their debt today," a voice rang, then deeply chuckled.

A frail body flew from the rafters and landed gently on the linoleum flooring, his heels making a soft click. A cape hung onto his shoulders and long bandages covered his abdomen. His lower body was hidden in drapery, the flowing fabric making it hard to determine if there was anything under it besides his legs. A soft rose tattoo near his clavicle caused Gerard to clench his jaw, his teeth slightly grinding together. The man laughed again.

"Why hello, Gerard. Long time, no see?"


	13. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard encounters Frances; Jamia is ill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello. It's been a long time, but I am back! Hopefully you're all still reading this. And hopefully you enjoy it. I DEFINITELY WILL BE FINISHING THIS STORY, so please don't lose hope. Thank you. xo

"Frances."

"Do you really remember me after so many years? How thoughtful."

Gerard bit back his screams and tried to calmly speak with clenched teeth: "I thought... I heard that you were killed. Why didn't you come look for me?"

Frances sighed, but it was only out of pity.

"You really don't understand anything, do you? You didn't pick up what my intentions were?" he snickered, "I was correct in picking you to be an idiotic drone to latch on to. You even let me! You're just a fool who was too hopeful and naive to keep waiting for me. You really believe that I loved you? Possibly when you were mortal. But you became a monster. You almost killed me, Gerard."

Gerard's face lost any color it may have had, revealing thin skin with fragile bones underneath. His bottom lip started to tremble, his eyes stinging and his hands finding it difficult to clench into fists. He had nothing to say. For the first time since he was able to speak, Gerard's mind was blank except for the gradually rising pain in the back of his head. He was confused.

"What... What's happening?"

"Your heart is breaking."

Frances took slow steps toward the frozen man, and Gerard noticed that they were hesitant. He was afraid. They were both afraid. They stood staring at each other, their faces void of any emotion. Gerard allowed his face to crunch into a twisted mess of features. His body bent forward, his arms reaching out to balance himself. He couldn't breathe. He didn't need to breathe. A gasp crept through his lips, and a quiet scream resulted from it. He was meaning to keep looking in Frances' eyes, but everything had become blurry. He clamped his eyelids shut, squeezing small droplets out and rolling down his delicate features.

"Gerard."

Gerard screamed like he was releasing a demon from his lungs and quickly gripped his midsection, fearful that he would explode. His knees buckled under his weight and he fell to the cold floor, almost without a sound. His breathing became erratic, and when he tried to regulate it, it only became worse. He attempted to open his eyes, to look at the man in front of him whom he had loved so dearly thoughout his long life, but the only things he could see were blurry figures standing around him. The only sounds were muffled voices and a high pitched ringing. His head oscilated, looking for something, anything, that may aid him to be rid of these sensory ailments. He could feel hands of his shoulders, tenderly, but he could not make out what the person was saying. He could only hear loud sobbing. He realized, then, that it was his own sobbing.

"Get away from me!" he screamed, his voice trembling without control. He pushed the person away from him. The person was taken aback, but still pursued to speak with him.

"No, go away, Frances! I don't want you here now!"

He covered his head with his large overcoat and waited until his senses were regulated. He sat up and looked around the damaged store, at the small amount of people who were surrounding him looking concerned. On his right side stood Frank, crouched down on his toes so that he was eye level with Gerard. The puffy-eyed man stared at Frank soundlessly, searching his eyes for recognition. He found none.

"I had this feeling I needed to come down here. I found the place trashed and you were curled up crying. Are you okay? Did you get hurt? I'm sorry about all the people around. There was a lot of noise, everyone came to check it out."

Gerard squeaked out an "I'm fine" before returning his gaze to the dirty, cracked floor. Frank sighed in a "I know you're not fine" way and started to shoo the civilians away from the man. He gently rested his hand on Gerard's back, to which Gerard flinched a tiny amount. By the time he looked up again, all the people had left and it was only he and Frank in the desecrated convenience store.

"You were in my hospital room, right? When I was in a car accident?"

"Yes," Gerard hesitated.

"So you know Jamia, right? I'm not trying to bum you out even more, but I just can't help but think something bad is happening. Just everywhere."

Gerard rubbed his eyes a little and sat up, signifying for Frank to go on with his story.

"So, she's been really sick lately. I don't know what it is, and the doctors can't even describe it. Nothing helps, either. She has migraines all day and her normal medication doesn't do anything. We even tried upping the dosage and it still did nothing. She can barely keep food down; she's losing a lot of weight. I'm afraid that... that she won't be around much longer."

Gerard thought of Frank's petite wife, caring for Gerard even when she knew he had other intentions for Frank than being a friend. She was a kind, pure soul that Gerard had to admit he was quite jealous and fond of. She did not deserve to suffer. Then he thought of Frances and his brother, Michael. He couldn't stand to think of either of them in a positive light. His own brother was treacherous and could not have compassion even if there was an injection that gave him this feeling. Frances. Oh, Frances. He was a fiend, an evil force that he regret ever having in his life. From the dim lit alleys in New Orleans to the glamour of early Hollywood, Frances was there. And it was disgusting. He looked to Frank.

"Do the doctors have an estimate?"

"Maybe a month or two."

"That's not enough time."

"Believe me, I know."

Gerard's eyes had dried up by now, the sorrow lingering, but not stinging any longer. He considered that maybe the pain of his eyes stabbed out would work in his favor. Damn that Oedipus.

"Would you like to see her?" Frank inquired.

Gerard merely nodded while already standing up.

\----------

"Oh, it's so nice to see you Gerard."

"I apologize that this is happening. I do wish that I could be of any help."

"No, no, this is something that can't be controlled. If it has to happen, it has to happen. That's life."

_"C'est la_ _vie."_

"Exactly. I'm happy that you were able to see me though. I really appreciate that."

Frank had started to tear up and left the room, leaving Gerard and Jamie to chatter quietly.

"I think his amnesia is going to wear off soon. He's starting to have dreams about being inside your mansion. I told him he should stop eating sugar before he goes to bed," she chuckled a bit.

"I'm sure it will. I'll take care of him when you're gone. That, I can promise you, Jamia," he smiled softly, then added, "Who did this to you? Did you see what he looked like."

"I remember a rose. I'm sure you know what that means."

Gerard nodded solemnly, firmly grasping her frail fingers. He touched his forehead to her hand and quietly whispered a latin prayer before slipping a silver ring with a ruby onto her third finger.

"It will keep you safe until your time comes. No more visions, no more pain."

She gazed at him astoundedly, her eyes rimming with fluid. She uttered multiple "thank you"'s under her breath, lightly kissing his hand and raising it to her forehead. Just as Frank had returned, they uttered their farewells, possibly for the last time, and Gerard was gathering his things. Frank had asked if he could drive Gerard home, but Gerard refused.

"I need a good walk right now."

"Could I join you? I'll walk you home."

Gerard shrugged lightly and looked to Jamia. She held up her fingers and danced with them, making the ring reflect small rays of sunlight across the walls.

"I'll be okay," she beamed, almost cackling at this newfound gift of relief that Gerard had given her. Frank kissed his wife and told her that he'd be back soon.


End file.
